


Wet the Bed

by twitchtipthegnawer



Series: Overwatch Oneshots [3]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: But he's basically a manchild already so it's unnoticeable lol, Condoms, Danger Kink, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, Junkrat also regresses a little tiny bit, Junkrat is disgusting but I am more disgusting, M/M, Nightmares, Omorashi, Outdoor Sex, Safe if Not Sane Sex, Size Difference, Though the last two are very mild, Unsanitary, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitchtipthegnawer/pseuds/twitchtipthegnawer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He may or may not have a problem. Most people would call it a problem, at least, but it's not really a problem for him. Not for the guy with more problems than a soap opera and a penchant for the explosive. That doesn't mean it never bothers him, but the fact that Roadhog seems a little more than <i>bothered</i> is certainly helping.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wet the Bed

Most of the time, Junkrat didn’t mind being compared to a child. He’d heard every insult in the book and none of them _meant_ anything, they were just noise to excuse why people found him hard to deal with. There’s just one time when he couldn’t handle it, one single instance where he would flip the fuck out if you called him “baby” or “kiddo” or “brat.”

To his chagrin, he found himself in that very situation now. “Bugger me,” he muttered under his breath as he stripped his sheets. He wasn’t sure why he was bothering to be quiet, even, because he knew Roadhog was already awake. Man probably woke up at the first scent of piss, though how he smelled like a bloodhound through that mask was beyond Junkrat.

Still, Roadhog didn’t get up from his bed, which Junkrat was thankful for. It gave him enough of an illusion of privacy that, when he finally had the cheap sheets off the motel bed, he could toss a spare comforter on it and fall back asleep easily. Despite trying his damnedest, though, he still dreamed of omnics finding him that night. Sensing him because of the hot spot he was sleeping in, his own piss spelling out his death.

It was the worst part of the bad habit, and the only reason it really bothered him. Adults didn’t wet the bed because it could get you fucking _killed._ Who cared if it was gross or unsanitary, in light of that piece of info?

Yet Junkrat couldn’t seem to help it. At least it woke him up every time, even after all these years, but that was a pretty paltry comfort. It was like how Roadhog didn’t mention it in the morning, when they skipped town with an unpaid motel bill. Sure, it was better than Hoggy mocking him, but it still fucking stung.

__________

The next night they camped out, the stars bright above them in a way they rarely were in Australia, between the dust clouds and toxic ash. It was hot enough out that Junkrat didn’t even bother getting out his bedroll, and instead just stripped down to his birthday suit and laid on the ground. It was something he’d done before, and at the time Roadhog hadn’t questioned it.

Something about tonight felt different, though. Jamie kept noticing Roadhog’s head turned his way, eyes invisible behind the way the glass covering them reflected flames from their bonfire. It was disconcerting, but not _too_ disconcerting; after all, Jamie was relatively sure Roadhog wasn’t going to kill him any time soon.

“You havin’ fun getting an eyeful?” He asked eventually, expecting Roadhog to grunt a negative and turn away. Hoggy had gotten fed up with him and stopped talking a while ago, bed wetting or no, but he didn’t mind. A silent companion had many uses.

But instead of following the script, Roadhog stood, stretching his arms above his head. There were very few men that could make Junkrat feel short, but he was one of them. “Mhmm,” Roadhog hummed, somehow making the sound rough and gravelly.

“Uh,” Junkrat sat up and tilted his head, squinted at his bodyguard suspiciously. “Yeah? What, have you got yourself an appetite for scrawny aussies all of a sudden?” He laughed at his own joke, despite Roadhog’s silence. Hoggy _never_ laughed, unless he was killing something.

Unexpectedly, Roadhog brought his thick hands up to undo the buckles on his mask, so that it could fall away. Junkrat had only seen his scarred face a handful of times, and every time he noticed a new flaw in it. The crooked nose was the most obvious, but there were dozens of old wounds to look at, burns and cuts and what looked like it might’ve been an overzealous, carnivorous fish biting his cheek.

Hoggy coughed heavily, spit to the side, and then looked at Junkrat with surprisingly shrewd eyes. When he looked at Junkrat like that he didn’t feel like Junkrat anymore. He felt like _Jamie,_ which was entirely unacceptable, given the circumstances. “Oi,” he protested, “I don’t think either of us are gonna get much sleep with you starin’ like that.”

“Shut up,” Roadhog said, smooth and sinister, but no more so than usual. The words were familiar, and Junkrat didn’t have a habit of listening to them, but the night was already getting _weird._ So when he tried to argue back, he found that his mouth was open but, for once, didn’t have anything to say.

With measured steps that were as heavy as they should be but more graceful than seemed possible, Roadhog stalked forward. Junkrat shut his mouth and swallowed hard, tried not to look at Roadhog’s face. The threat stalking towards him, even if it wasn’t _really_ a threat, got his blood pumping.

When Roadhog reached him he got on his knees, the rocky ground around them somehow not shaking with the impact, even if Junkrat thought it should. “You’re not going to do _it_ again, are you?” He asked, and Junkrat blanched because he thought they didn’t _talk about it._

“Aww Hoggy,” he said, as pouty and childish and he didn’t care. “You know it’s not like I fuckin’ want to wake up wet and sticky. Not wet with piss, anyway.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and Roadhog raises his in return.

“I just watched you drink a gallon of water at dinner,” said Roadhog, clearly annoyed.

Laughing nervously, Junkrat sat up straight. His peg leg dug a thin furrow in the sandy ground as he shifted. “Well, don’t exactly want a trickle mate, that’s not gonna wake me up.”

Something about the grimace Roadhog gave him let Junkrat know that he didn’t say what Roadhog had wanted him to say, but the wanker wasn’t exactly saying what Junkrat wanted to hear, so it didn’t matter anyway. “Go piss,” he said, clearly an order. He gestured with one arm, solid and wide with fat and muscle, at the scrub brush surrounding them.

Junkrat wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Not gonna fix the problem, mate. Somehow my body always finds the last few drops, y’know?” He wasn’t sure _why_ this was bothering him so much. He’d been weeping puss from infected wounds before, in a way that left a clear, acrid trail the same way piss did, but somehow this was so much _worse._

Consideration flickered in Roadhog’s eyes, the kind that made Junkrat feel smaller than usual. The hand Hog had used to gesture gripped Junkrat’s shoulder suddenly, then pulled him forward. Even if Junkrat had wanted to resist, he wasn’t sure he could, but that only added to the thrill of it. _Danger._ Roadhog practically bled it.

“Come here,” Roadhog grumbled when Junkrat started trying to pull back, testing his grip. With a wide, innocent grin, he finally gave in, pressing his twig of a body against Roadhog’s. He could rest his chin on Hog’s collarbone to blink up at him, but only just.

Fingers slid down his spine, and Junkrat allowed his eyes to slide almost all the way shut. He kept a sliver open, so that he would be more likely to notice any sudden threats. But the sensation was nice, and sent tingles down his body, and it was something Roadhog had done on rare occasions, so he didn’t question it.

That was, he didn’t question it until Roadhog’s hand pressed down, pushing Junkrat’s stomach against the bulge of his own. The pressure grew, and made Junkrat aware of the fact that he was starting to feel the effect of having drunk so much. “Hey,” he said, nervous, “what’re you doin?”

“Fixing your problem,” Roadhog replied, pushing down harder. Junkrat squirmed against him, feeling the way Hog’s body wasn’t nearly as soft as it looked, and that solid pressure was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

“Don’t,” Junkrat said, tense and, for once, not joking. He could hardly believe it when Roadhog actually _listened,_ and the pressure on his back disappeared. But before he finished sighing relief, Roadhog’s hands had gripped his ass, spreading his lean cheeks.

Ignoring Junkrat’s sudden intake of breath, Roadhog kneaded the flesh he’d grabbed. He had a substantial portion of Junkrat’s upper thighs as well as his ass, since Junkrat’s frame wasn’t exactly full anywhere. Blunt fingertips brushed his entrance when Roadhog’s grip shifted, and Junkrat gasped again.

“W-what’re you doing,” he managed, slightly out of breath. He could already feel his body responding, the lean lines of him going taut. “Are you planning on _fucking_ the piss out of me?”

Dry, rough prods had Junkrat clinging to Roadhog, his metal hand gaining a better grip than his smaller, flesh one. “Worth a try,” said Roadhog, sounding darkly amused.

“Lube!” Junkrat squeezed Roadhog’s shoulders with sudden realization. Brown eyes stared down at him, not moving one inch to get the damn lube. “Where’s it at, you fuckin’ galah?”

One finger pushed harder on the next stroke, until Junkrat could feel himself opening, could feel the _burn_ of it. His cock, long and thin as the rest of him, twitched between their bodies. “Who’s a galah?” Roadhog asked, a lopsided grin on his face as Junkrat squawked at the feeling.

Scrambling at Roadhog’s pants, Junkrat finally managed to slip his hand into one of his pockets, fumbling about for a bit before his fingers closed on a tube. He pulled it out, didn’t bother to look at it before he was stretching his hand behind himself, trying to push it into Roadhog’s hand. “Me, fine, I can be, just don’t-- ah!”

Suddenly it was very hard to talk, with lube pouring thick and cold against his entrance. Globs of it fell to the ground, Roadhog simply squeezing the tube until a snail-trail of it slicked between Junkrat’s legs. It wasn’t nearly enough, not with the way Roadhog refused to properly coat his fingers before he pushed in, and the burn was still intense.

Most of the time, Roadhog’s fingers looked short and thick, all dirty nails and sandpaper callouses. But it was some kind of optical illusion, Junkrat had decided, because Roadhog’s fingers didn’t only stretch his rim wide; they pushed _deep,_ rubbing places even Junkrat’s long fingers couldn’t reach. It took hardly any time at all before he was panting, writhing until Roadhog shifted and Junkrat was in his lap, feeling his cock harden beneath him.

Twisting his wrist, Roadhog shifted the angle of his thrusting, scissoring fingers. At first Junkrat thought he was going to press on his prostate, and he groaned in appreciation. But then those fingers pushed, so firmly that Junkrat was sure Roadhog had done something like this before, and he felt the need to piss as a sudden, sharp ache.

 _“Don’t, don’t, don’t,”_ he found himself repeating, over and over again. But he couldn’t summon any of that bite from before, and Roadhog _increased_ the pressure, instead of letting up. Without the fingers inside him calling attention to his bladder, Junkrat wouldn’t have had a problem, but with them it almost _hurt._

At some point, Roadhog had gotten three fingers inside him. It was too much, too fast, but it had Junkrat’s dick leaking precome all the same. “You complain a lot,” Hog said, infuriatingly calm, “for someone who could come from this.”

With a sharp, almost stabbing motion, Roadhog prodded Junkrat’s prostate. “N-no!” Junkrat protested, grated his teeth then looked up at Roadhog, trying his hardest to give puppy dog eyes. “No, not that, please fuck me Hoggy, I’ll- I’ll-” It was too hard to hang onto his train of thought, so Junkrat resorted to kissing along Roadhog’s jaw sloppily, feeling the way stubble started and stopped around the edges of scars.

Luckily, Junkrat’s persuasive argument seemed to have worked, because Roadhog slid his fingers out of Junkrat’s ass. Smooth as could be, he grabbed Junkrat’s waist with one hand and hiked him up, giving himself space to undo his pants. The moist heat beneath him had Junkrat trembling in anticipation, trying his hardest not to wiggle his way out of Roadhog’s grip as it became slick with sweat.

As soon as his cock was free, Roadhog reached into another of his seemingly endless pockets, drawing out a condom. He bit the packaging open in a practiced movement that reminded Junkrat of his shrewd stare, the way Roadhog always seemed to know more about what he was doing than others would guess. Suddenly, he felt very young again.

Then Roadhog had rolled on the condom and pushed into Junkrat and all he could feel was _fire._ Roadhog didn’t go slowly, he pushed in nearly all at once, and his cock was as huge as the rest of him. Junkrat could feel it splitting him, and between Roadhog’s hands now resting on his back and the dick inside him he couldn’t so much as wiggle.

“Not gonna protest if I give you what you want, are you slut?” Roadhog rumbled, his words more guttural with arousal. He pushed down, hands on either side of Junkrat’s spine forcing him to arch.

There was so little padding in Junkrat’s body, the whole thing starvation-thin with only bare scraps of wiry muscle, that Junkrat hysterically thought Roadhog could probably feel his own stomach through Junkrat’s organs when he thrust. Hell, maybe he’d break all the way through Junkrat’s body, send blood and piss pouring down his front.

The thought was more appealing than it likely should be. But then, Junkrat had always had a certain thing for defying death. It was, after all, the same thing he could feel when he blew up a particularly nice target.

Hard thrusts rocking his frame, Junkrat knew he wasn’t going to last long, pressure in his bladder be damned. His balls were drawing up tight, his cries sharp and hitching and high enough to make Roadhog growl. “Come on Jamie,” he said, the sound of that name sending electricity shoking down Jamie’s spine. “Just _give in._ ”

He came like he was dying, each moan breaking over and over again as the pleasure turned to pain. It was _too much,_ Roadhog fucking Jamie through the orgasm and past it, his cock sandwiched between them and too sensitive and feeling it inside and out every time Hog’s huge cock ground in, every time those hips moved with more fluidity than should be _allowed._

Every inch of Jamie was so warm and tingly and focused on the burning ache of it that he didn’t notice the wet heat between them growing. More liquid than his spunk, which clung to his own chest in stripes turned grey by soot and dirt, piss slid between his legs. His body had relaxed after he’d come, and his thighs were still twitching as he finally relieved the last of his tension.

“Fucking-- disgusting--” Roadhog ground out, though he pounded into Jamie’s ass harder than ever. The piss lent him a sticky-slick slide that the lube before hadn’t managed, allowed him to let loose at last.

Finally, when Jamie was left with nothing but cracked sounds falling out of his gaping, drooling mouth, Roadhog came. It was much quieter than Jamie, nothing more than a single low groan and a grip on Jamie’s hips that would bruise his muscles black, but it was accompanied by a warm rush as the condom filled with come and Jamie thought, dazed, that it might feel like that if Roadhog pissed inside him.

By the time he was fully aware of his surroundings again, Roadhog was pulling out of his ass, laying him on the ground in a way that wasn’t overly gentle, but wasn’t careless either. “Felt nice, Hoggy,” Jamie said, catching Roadhog’s ponytail in one limp fist and dragging him in for a kiss.

Roadhog indulged him for all of two sloppy, filthy minutes before he pushed back with a curl of his lips. “Bathe,” he ordered, tone allowing for no argument.

Of course, that didn’t stop Jamie from arguing as always. “But Hoggy,” he whined, drawing the “y” out much longer than any man his age should. “I don’t wanna, I’m tired.”

For once, it didn’t bother him when Roadhog looked down at him, seeming to peel through every layer of insanity until he knew what Jamie was thinking better than he did himself. “Bathe. We both need it. Then you can sleep.”

Logically, all Jamie had to do was agree. But it was a long time, too long really, before he could force himself to talk through the displeased wrinkle in his nose, and say “Okay.”

Roadhog almost smiled at that, though, the ends of his lips tightening as if they wanted to curl up, and that made it worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope... you enjoyed the kinky filth... now I'm going to bathe myself 50 times to make up for indulging the kinks I usually don't indulge ever \o/ I hope y'all think it was worth it. Also, Roadhog is so mean to Junkrat in all of their in-game dialog, so IDK why fandom likes them as a mushy romantic couple so much? I hope I didn't step on anyone's headcanons too badly with this ahh, I swear I was just trying to stay IC...
> 
> As always if you have questions/comments/prompts/requests I will be the most delighted to see them, and if you want to check out any of my other OW fics I'd be so super appreciative (though sadly I have no more Junkrat/Roadhog posted just yet).


End file.
